Menu

this is a live retake of the 1977 movie Planet of the Dinosaurs. I have no claim on the film and I am not trying to make any money. I’m just trying to be funny.

Blento, 170 miles from Earth. The search for locations for fast food franchises continues.

The ship Odessa tries to sneak up onto the planet. It’s long and not at all sleek. Actually, it looks a lot like a kid glued a bunch of old model kits together.

Two people in the dark frantically attempt to reason with a violently drunk spaceship.

“I’ll do it,” slurs the computer. “I’ll blow myself up. Tired of having to tote you ingrates halfway around space looking for a place to open a take-out joint.”

The female counselor coos at the computer. “Come on, we all appreciate you. Let’s settle the tab and go to sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

But her mustachioed supervisor, Sneaker, tries a different approach. “You don’t have the guts to blow yourself up,” he sneers. “You’re still paying off that extension.”

The two squabble over what to do with the space ship as things make noises around them. The Sneaker is visibly annoyed, wishing he had taken the desk job at the academy. “They had a sushi bar there, he thinks.” Wise and Pride, perhaps too much of both, his mind is not on his work and he does not see his female counterpart is agitated.

Parsecs, screams Sneaker. The spaceship has finally had enough and kicked him out. His space-cubicle falls away from the ungainly hulk.

“It can’t do that,” he complains, and pushes a button that docks so much of the computer’s pay that the two of them are thrown back from the recoil.

His cubicle falls closer to the bluish planet. A tv screen crackles to life. Things hum and glow.

Above him, the space ship decides to stand up for itself and commits hara-kiri.
The female counselor winces as she realizes that she never clocked in this morning.
“That was rude,” snaps the Sneaker. “How are you going to fix things?”
The female counselor looks across a panel of buttons for an answer.
“Didn’t they go over this during your employ training,” whines Sneaker.
For lack of anything better to do, the female counselor touches some glowing knobs.
She tries to speak but only mouths words. She didn’t know until how much she loved the space ship. and its means to get her home.

“I hope I’m not stuck with just you,” jeers the Sneaker. “Time to take roll call.”
He presses a button and a confused looking woman appears. It is Wendy from Accounts Payable. “What the wow just happened,” she asks as she shakes cobwebs from her head. The look on Sneaker’s face says it all. He had clearly been hoping Wendy had been working from home today.
Vice-President Smothers interrupts before the Sneaker can get out a good joke at Wendy’s expense. Smothers’ mustache flails wildly as he tries to remember the basics of human speech.
Sneaker pounces on him before he can manage a word and takes command of the ship. “It’s in the bylaws,” he assures Smothers. “The ones that were on the ship.”
“I didn’t want to be in charge anyway,” Smothers retorts.
“Good.” Sneaker savors the words before spitting them at Smothers. “Because you’d be terrible at it.”

Smothers gets hot at the challenge to his virility. “Well, just wait till we land on my planet, and then we’ll see who’s in charge.” Smother’s mustache flushes with confidence.

Sneaker cannot digest the fact that Smother’s is trying to play finders keepers at a time like this. “Who says it’s you planet,” he asks. His mouth sounds like a hive of bees.
He thumbs a knob, trying to find something to calm him down, and only finding a woman who seems to be in labor. He switches to another screen, finding his irritated looking half-sister. .
“Did anyone I like make it off that stupid ship,” he wonders, flipping to a large Nebraskan.
The Nebraskan avoids eye contact, but is clearly pleased to be the center of attention.
The screen fills with important looking blue lines and suddenly the half-bear appears un-asked for.
“You really screwed the pooch this time, Sneaker,” the half-bear taunts him. Sneaker feels his inside vitals roil at the assertion. He cannot bear to be gazed upon by the half-bear and switches to the navigator.
“where are we going,” the sneaker asks.
“Down,” says the navigator.
“Oh, cool.” the sneaker lays sarcastically into the modestly attractive navigator. “I didn’t know we were crashing.”

The cubicle falls faster and the female counselor turns to Sneaker for comfort. “All out,” he laughs grimly.
Then the blue lights appear and the calming beard of the half-bear fills the screen.
“If you want to be a little bird-like thats fine,” he tells the Sneaker. “But don’t be getting her upset.”
“God, you people,” the Sneaker complains. It is all he is good for.
“Look out, you wanna-be Jesuses,” cries the female counselor, ripping the two away from their peacocking. “we’re crashing!”
The cubicle falls at an acceptable speed towards the planet’s surface.
The rounded contours of Smothers appear in Sneaker’s vision. “Comfort me,” he wails.
“Comfort,” Sneaker mocks. “Comfort is an illusion.”
The expansive countryside of the planet fills everyones thoughts as they almost speed by it.
“Make sure your seats are in their full upright position,” intones the female counselor. Luckily, her joke is cut short by the cubicle crashing into the waters.

the sea is deceptive, and they all react moments after actually hitting it. If I survive this, grits the Sneaker, these idiot are going to have heck to pay.

More loud noises sounds and the Nebraskan panics. His fear grips the bowels of everyone like an unfortunate shared disease and they take off after him.

In a display of his strength the Nebraskan rips the calendar off the wall. “Good thing there was a hidden door behind that,” cries the Navigator. “Everybody after me.”
The Nebraskan throws anything shiny into the water.
Smothers and the pregnant woman are hot on the Navigators heels. The noble half-bear is the last to leave the doomed cubicle, only after making sure they all escaped.

As the group pathetically flails their limbs to shore. the cubicle sinks behind them.
Sneaker’s half-sister grabs hold of the counselor and helps her to shore. Smothers is no help to the expectant mother. The half-bear keeps an eye the navigator, who is not a strong swimmer.
Against all odds the group thrashes to the shore. They crawl onto land like drowned rats, collapsing after the exertions of a nine-foot swim. They mutter a quick prayer for the fertile real estate.
“Sure we’re alive,” groans the navigator, “but look at all this dirt. Phegh!”
The group agrees they’re in a rough spot. There isn’t a buffet king for miles.
The Sneaker feels at his neck, consumed with the knowledge that someone knows this is all his fault.
“How did this happen,” Smothers wails, flapping his arms.
Sneaker’s half-sister stretches out comfortably. “Could have been anything,” she says in a voice that means-it wasn’t anything, it was my jerk half-brother the Sneaker.
“Nevermind,” snaps the indecisive Smothers. “What are we going to do?”
“I can’t believe I jumped out before the women,” the navigator tongue-lashes himself.
“Yeah, that was terrible,” agrees Sneaker, eager to have the group’s focus elsewhere.
Nothing anyone is saying registers with Smothers. He has gone bazonkers.
“I just popped out. Even before the pregnant lady got into the water.” The navigator hates himself. “I will meet death grinning,” he assures himself.
“I called dibs on the planet,” Smothers reminds them. “You guys can go kick rocks. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“I think we should pick a leader,” says Wendy.
“I vote me,” says Smothers.
“I vote me,” says Sneaker. He eyes the group for dissidents.
The female counselor and Sneaker’s half-sister both remember something important.
“You two will have to fight over it,” says Wendy. “Company Policy.”
Politics is what Smothers does best, and he rips off some promises that make Wendy blush. “Shouldn’t we go salvage some stuff,” she asks to deter gladiator combat.
The Nebraskan thinks he hears a cue to disrobe and rips out of his tracksuit. Wendy rises to remind him that there isn’t any need for that. But she also starts to disrobe in an attempt to ease the Nebraskan’s embarrassment.
“This isn’t necessart,” the female counselor reminds her.
But Wendy seems pretty intent on her course of action.
The Nebraskan, realizing noone wanted to see him topless, hides his shame behind a few well-executed breaststrokes.
He totally has Wendy’s attention now and she races to join him in his aquatic sport. The Nebraskan outdistances her, being taught not be withing five feet of a woman before marriage.
The half-bear begins to strip himself. Aghhh! Screams and Thunder. Some hungry uber-lizard has Wendy by the arm and dinner on his mind. SHe flails helplessly against his might jaw strength.
The other survivors look at it with the creepy love people have for others misfortune. wendy’s death throes churn up the water, and the Nebraskan searches for the lake-beast.
Wendy is clearly a thing of the past, and the Nebraskan starts a panic doogy-paddle back to shore. The half-bear risks himself to pull the Nebraskan onto land. He gaggles for control of his digestive tract, convinced that his fear of intimacy conjured up the beast.
“This place is cursed,” he intones. Sneaker’s half-sister attempts to ease his fears by reminding him that everyone must die.
“You know what they say,” remarks Smothers. “Set one less place at the old dinner table. He is a callous man.
“I can only hope to face death like her,” says the navigator.
“This land demanded a tribute,” insists the Sneaker. “And it has taken it.” He can feel the tingles of unlooked-for magic rising in his gullet.
“Bull,” the female counselor offers.
The Sneaker whips the gang into an exploitable panic. “Doom,” he rises and shakes the half-bear.”Doom and magic. Enough for two hands fulls each.”
Wendy’s grave ripples.
The female counselor breaks out some firepower. One to the half-bear. The Sneaker rips one away from her, not wanting to seem lesser than anyone. He goes on a spiel about rejecting moral codes and becoming decadents. The half bear ain’t buying. His own half-sister does not seem convinced. The Nebraskan thinks about brunch. Smothers throws his head back to look like he gets it.
He ends on a high note and tells everyone its time to make like a tree.
That was a good one, the female counselor thinks. Everyone knows what that means.
Three days later. Sneaker leads his tribe through a sugarcane field. Sometimes you just got to make like a tree, he reminds them nervously. He hates himself, that joke only works once. The pregnant woman cannot imagine bringing her kid up in this neighborhood.
She crawls at Smothers, looking for consolation in all the wrong places.
“Don’t be a chump,” he snorts. The navigator feels bad for her.
“You want to really feel safe,” he tells her. “Take this. It’s a laser. Lasers always make me feel safe.” He presses it into her hands, and feels an unexpected desire to live swell up.
The half-bear watches from a distance. These are good people, he tells himself. They deserve more. Except Smothers.
The column of misfits makes its way into a stream. Everyone’s tracks suits grow damp. But it is the only way, and they push on with the Sneaker’s chatter ringing in their ears.
The long-impotent magic inside him grows stronger and stranger with every step they take on this weird planet.
The swamp goes on forever. Everyone is chafing but no one wants to be the first to ask for a pit stop. All but the Sneaker, who leads them unceasingly deeper into the wild, driven by dark appetites.
The swamp is alive with strange noises and tiny mouths tug at them as they slide through the muck. But the Sneaker will not let the stop. Only the half-bear remains rigid and energized. He strides manfully where others stumble.
The pregnant woman waves the lazer at everything she sees, strangled by a mother’s instinct to protect her young.
Blaaah! Surprise! She is grabbed up from under the water and Wendy comes to everyone’s minds. The half-bear comes from out of nowwhere to pull her upright, searching the water for something to punch. Whatever it was is gone.
He snatches the laser and the navigator scoops of the terrified mother to be.
Curses, growls the half bear to himself. The loss of a weapon is terrible, but he is too nice to brow-beat the young lady.
“Sneaks,” he whispers. “Bad news. We’re down one blaster.”
The Sneaker has none of the half-bear’s grace and demands and explanation. The navigator can only explain that shit happens.
But it is not enough for the Sneaker.
“The heck is a laser going to do for her,” The Sneaker’s rant starts, and goes on to call many people rude names. But his newly discovered magic makes his audience grateful for his attention.
“I wish it had been me that beast had tried to eat,” mourns the navigator.
“Me too,” agrees The Sneaker. “See what I have to deal with,” he tells the half-bear, who only grunts.
“Next time,” hisses the Sneaker, “everyone gets a laser but you.”
He is frustrated by the delay, some evil compass inside him is drawing him forward.
The half-bear growls something about the navigator trying to comfort the pregnant lady, but The Sneaker isn’t hearing it.
“Come on,” titters the Sneaker. “We’re burning daylight.”
To his credit the navigator will not get into a shouting match with the Sneaker.
Everyone apologizes until they’re sick of it.
The Sneaker’s insides swell with importance and he leads them again through the bush.
The half-bear follows after him, trying to remember how Sneaker got to be in charge.
The forest goes on for weeks. There is no end to it. Not even the Sneaker’s new magical inclination has helped find a way out.
The tribe does their best to keep wanting to live, but it gets harder with every step.
everyone thinks of home, of lemonade stands, of all the could have beens. The Nebraskan wanted to be in theater. The Sneaker finds signs of his path everywhere, and remains unaware of his companions. But it is getting harder for the mere mortals to keep up the break-neck pace.
Smothers is of course the frst to quit. Sneaker is unsure how to handle the challenge and decides to go along with it, making it seem like it was his idea.
He starts pointing at boxes and calls for food to be prepared. He postures as he set people on petty errands.
The pregnant woman grabs the coat from Smothers. “You don’t need it, she says, and I’m eating for two.”
The food is an unappetizing collection of pastes and semi-liquids, but to the shipwrecked tribe it might as well be Arbys.
“Never thought I’d be hungry enough to eat this crap,” jokes the navigator. Nobody laughs. He mutters and offers the tube of Salsbury Steak to his fellows.

As they squabble over the various delicacies, the female counselor slides up to the Sneaker.
She tries to interest him in a picnic, but the Sneaker is too distracted by plots, counterplots, and espionage.
The struggles are written across his face.
Look, the female counselor shoves a mirror into his face. “You’re mutating in front of everybody. You’d almost think you like being here.”
The Sneaker keeps his mouth shut, afraid that the truth will come out: that he does and is a wizard now.
He starts talking to himself and the female counselor tries to shake him out of it. If you keep acting like this, they’ll put you to sleep like they do rabid dogs, she reminds him.
Sneaker hates her for that, and hates her more for being right.
The navigator envies the Nebraskan’s disintrest in anything.
“Crap,” cries the Sneaker’s half-sister, that pregnant lady is strangling Smothers. No one is really interested in stopping her. No one is really intereseted in stopping her, but her wrists are too small to do the job right.
Sneaker tells the group that they will not attempt to be rescued. This can be our land, he tells them, lust heavy in his voice. We can start a kingdom here. He is so eager for it that the others think they are too.
It will be great, he assures them.
Only Smothers remains unconvinced. As he gestures emphatically, the Sneaker makes a note to deal with him when the oppurtunity presents itself.
For now, the Sneaker settles for a tongue-trouncing, throwing some harsh words left and right.
The half-bear barks and the two stop short. Something in the wild, he says shortly, tossing half a tree to the ground. We’re being watched. The group wonders what to do. CLimb trees? Dig a moat? There ideas are all terrible. The navigator chides them for their fear.
The moment of tension is gone, and they exchange pasts and futures. I didn’t even meet the Sneaker until college, his half-sister tells the group. He used to get terrible rashes. Everyone has a good laugh at the weasel’s expense.
Suddenly the night roars open. Something big is hungry. Necks almost snap as the humans try to place the noise.
What, was that, stammers Smothers, hoping no one has the answer.
The navigator alone remains calm. I know what it is, he tells them. It is death.
His white teeth sparkle in the night, but everyone is getting sick of his attitude.
It takes a lot of doing to get the navigator not to walk off looking for it.
Everyone get to sleep, the half bear commands, his fur bristles at a new sensation he can’t name.
Dawn breaks unexpectedly in the morning.
Ugh! What a bunch of bums. They sleep in until noon, just right out in the open.
But there is one missing!
The half-bear moves with an agility surprising for one with his amount of body hair.
He grabs at the Sneaker’s mouth, who’s survial instincts kick in with an embrassing thrashing. “Cool it,” says the half-bear in a whisper that is scarier than a shout. “Come with me.”
The Sneaker’s spine is tense and magical as he follows after his shaggy companion.
The half-bear leads him to a shady grove an points into the distance. The Sneaker was expecting anything but this.
Stay put, I’ll go whip up some ideas, the Sneaker assures the half-bear, already walking backwards. He races back to camp, bent on escape.
He wakes up the tribe, trying to get them to grab everything and leave the half-bear to the giant lizards. But the tribe, though simple, are true, and refuse to leave one of their number.
Failing to sway them, the Sneaker reluctantly leads them back to the half-bear.
Thy blunder on back, and the half-bear’s war-organs are so tense he almost disintegrates them.

The lizard is huge, and it is old, and it is a shepherd of peace. You only needed to look at it once to see that. They are shocked to find they understand his language, no doubt so second-hand magic. Everything is cool except Smothers. He hates everything about this place.

As they bicker over the possibility of this being a trap, the Sneaker encourages them to murder it. He is filled with a hate for the nobility of the dinosaur. The Sneaker whispers magic-fuelled lies at the group and they find themselves ashamed to be talking to a dinosaurs.
It takes the half-bear to drag away the navigator, who sees in the dinosaurs the possibility of a good death.

The dinosaurs bends his will towards the group but cannot see if they will come to a good end.

Sneaker leads the tribe back to the swamp. He feels safe there, secure. His thoughts go less and less to his companions unless he needs them to do something. They are slowing him down.
What the blazes, cries the pregnant woman. Sunk into the mud like a curse word into wet concrete is the biggest footprint any of them have ever seen. Sneaker kneels beside it. Whatever it is, his paranoia tells him it is a threat to his dominance. You stick with me, he says, and you’ll never have to deal with these.
The half-bear exposes some chest for emphasis and calls him a baboon. You would have a better chance keeping a kid out of a candy jar than keep this lot away from that monster, he tells the sneaker.
Smothers wants everyone to run away, and for once everyone listens to him. But woah! unexpected death! Sneaker’s half-sister points out a ripped up corpse. It is gross and right out in the open.
This reminds the half-bear so much of home it isn’t even funny. Dog eat dog, brother, he tells the Sneaker, who is stymied by the sayings implications.
The group threatens tp sink into a panic, and the Sneaker leads them away to regain control.
The hike will not end. Even the magically stimulated Sneaker begins to tire, and notices that the half-bear doesn’t. It is a fresh torment to his frazzled brain.
Jealous of his rival, he orders a halt to make sure people are still listening to him
The half-bear stands alone, watching the weaker ones collapse. His posture is an insult to the Sneaker, even if he doesn’t know it.

The group spreads out, looking for comfort.The pregnant woman angrily confronts the Sneaker about disappearing food, and he stammers out some cockamamie that she isn’t buying.
A little voice tells him she is trying to make him look bad in front of everyone, so he tells her to go ask his sister.
The Sneaker’s half-sister is losing her grip. She prefers to keep by herself, and is startled by the pregnant lady’s approach.
Got anything to eat, asks the pregnant lady.
Only eggs benedict giggles the Sneaker’s half sister as she hands her a branch.
She glares some crazy eyes so the pregnant lady pretends to eat some. “yeah, good stuff, ” she says through a mouthful of splinters. “well, I’m full,” she says, handing the sticks back to the Sneaker’s half sister.
But a plump red catches her eye. Greed kicks in, and she tries to sneak it into her mouth.
Go ahead, says Sneaker’s half-sister, through a telescope. “Looks good, don’t they?”
“I’ve been eating them for weeks.”
The pregnant lady stops just in time, saving herself and her baby from turning looney. Well, she thinks, this was a waste.
A new day. A new day of an exhausting hike, tramping wherever the Sneaker’s whim takes them. It is a sun-baked graveyard of many old majestic animals, and everyone hopes that it will not be theirs. Only the desire to die in the shade drives them forward.
Blahh! At first it seems like Sneaker’s half sister is simply making noises again, but look! A trio of princes in the distance. Emotions race-fear, hunger, awe, anger. Everyone is a grab bag of feelings.
The sight of such a might herd puts everyone on the alert. They move cautiously, quietly, careful of the Sneaker’s orders. He is the happiest he can remember being.
Rocks and skulls threaten to break ankles as they march ever forward. No one questions where, there only thought: water. The sun overhead bakes them and addles the Sneaker’s already touched brain.
they stumble on, uncomplaining, each waiting for the next break.
only the half-bear remains upright through it all.
he serves as an inspiration, sharing his water, tending the sore, etc.
many feel they would have perished without him. even the sneaker is begrudgingly grateful.
the desert stretches on, maybe forever.
it is the sort of desert god would regret making, because it doesn’t even have anything cool to look at. But the half-bear isnt a tourist. He is a leader, and he is Moses-ing these people out of here.
Ahh! Greenery! he did it. they would cheer if their throats werent so dry.
As they come up to the bushes, the Sneaker calls for a stop. They all willingly throw themselves down, even the half-bear.
The navigator wanders off, his mind only concerned with meeting death.
And the Sneaker’s half-sister grabs her water-finder and goes off to make herself useful.
I think I found some, she thinks to herself. But a quick scan reveal that this isnt’ water, but a plant.
Suddenly! Agggh! With all the stealth of a nun the stegosaurus is upon her. She races away from it’s lumbering frame.
Her panic overtakes the group. They flail about, grabing sticks, boxes, lasers, anything as they race away from the red bulk.
The monster plows on, barely even aware of the people in front of it. It has bigger problems.
As they race away, another monster roars out of nowhere.
Rumbly-downs! He bares a mouthful of jagged teeth and scatters all before him.
He mocks them, drinking in their fear as he snaps his jaws.
The stegosaurus barrels forward like a barely-running train and Rumbly-downs gnashes his teeth.
Sneaker’s gang hide as best they can amongst the sparse brush as the two mega-lizards start their duel.
They circle, looking for openings. This has been long coming, the hate is clear upon lizardly faces.
Rumbly-downs shrieks, the steogaurus crumps, and our suriviors make no sound at all.
Blast!
In their undignified escape, they forgot a laser.
Against pleas, the navigator presses forward as far as he can. The half bear reaches to stop him, but the mop-topped navigator pelts out of reach.

This would be a good death, he thinks. A noble death.

The stego and Rumbly-downs continue their search for a weakness. The navigator presses forward, ignoring every fiber’s urge to get to safety.
He makes an undignified run from rock to rock.
The navigator closes with the two gladiators, now searching for the best way to get in the middle.
The stego sees him and flicks him to safety. But this gives Rumbly-downs an opening, and he bites.
The navigator crawls foward, blood is everywhere, dust fills the air. Rumbly-downs rips at the stego’s sails and the navigator finally reaches the laser.
It is horrible to watch, every moment a terror.
Rumbly-downs continues his chewing and gets ahold of a leg. But the stego gives him a face full of spike-tail.
Some involuntary response sends the navigator away from the tussle, and Rubly-downs chomps down on stego’s neck. It is all over with a mess sick crunching noises.
The gang watches in horror as the biggest thing they’ve ever seen flaunts his power under the sun.
The navigator dives back to cover, hating himself for the unconscious decision.
The group demoralized, the Sneaker leads them away from the carnage.
That’s a whole lot of lizard, says the female counselor.
Tell me something I didn’t know, says the Sneaker.
Rumbly-downs eats his fill, and with one last look, they scamper off.
After days, the Sneaker reaches a plateau he has seen so often in his dreams.
Climb, he exorts, where we shall be safe from Rumbly-downs and all like him.
But climbing is easier said than done. It is a long and harsh way up, and they are exhausted.
Smothers is not feeling it.
Fine, Sneaker tells him. Stay down here and get eaten.
But even the threat of Rumbly-downs is not enough to start them right away.
There is talk of ropes, of codewords, of mutiny.
Tired of Smothers and his complaining, the Sneaker tells him that he can stay put if he wants.
The others do not feel like messing with Rumbly-downs, and mutely file past Smothers.
He is a pushover, and quickly falls in.
The way up is hard, but no harder than the desert.
They pass silver boxes full of their meager belongings up hand by hand, straing with the effort.
At times, they must go on all fours. But their spirit is unbroken. They were always hardy people. Theirs had not been an easy mission: they had flown half across the galaxy to open a made-to-order burger bar. Their mission may have changed, but not their spirit.
They pick their way carefully across a ledge. There is barely enough room for a regular humnan,but somehow Smothers fits.
He is slowing us down, Sneaker tells himself. I must find a way to get rid of him.
Still the climb goes onward and upward. Ther eis no hope for a break, they must climb, or fall exhausted to death. It is the only thing that drives the forward.
The ledge narrows again. The Sneaker clutches onto his half-sister for courage as he crosses. The half-bear needs no moral support, he flirts with death at the rock edge.
Disaster. The Sneaker hurls a slipping spell over his shoulder at the half-bear, but it misses! The female counselor catches the magic and finds herself hanging onto a bear-arm for dear life. But she could not be in safer hands. Even as things strike the ground below her and she spins wildly, the half-bear tightens his grim of her narrow wrist.
He hauls her up and the Sneaker hurries back to make it look like he cares.
He gets hit smack in the face with jealousy as the counselor turns to the half-bear for comfort.
Smothers peers down after the lost food.
What are we going to do, he moans.
Order out, the Sneaker jeers, and pushes away from the most annoying human.
There is a welcome sound at the top of the mountain: running water. The Sneaker looks around to maker sure everyone knew he was right.
But the half-bear is all for pressing on, and the Sneaker doesn’t know how to get him to stop. After a few attempts he finally convinces the half-bear that the pregnant lady needs a break after the mountain climbing.
As they rest the Sneaker makes a list of all the people he wants out. Smothers, the half-bear, the Nebraskan.it is pretty much everyone.
30:39
Smothers is about done with this crap and usneaks out his flask.
He tries to peer pressure the pregnant lady into some social drinking and she takes the flask away from him.
The navigator gets ahold of it and starts in on a lecture about alcholol not solving your problems. He mutters something about his step-dad as he tosses the flask back to Smothers.
“Is this the only way you know how to make friends,” asks the Navigator. “That’s pretty sad.” Everyone is surprised by his moral character, he looks like a bottle-a-nighht kind of guy.
The navigator continues his harangue, offering to take Smothers to a support group.It is actually getting pretty tiresome.
Murder blazes in Smothers’ face, and he tells the Navigator to meet him on the blacktop after school.
He is too stewed in booze to realize what he is saying and rips off half a dozen fighting styles he is proficient in.
The pregnant lady tells them both to can it. She is clearly tired of all this.
The three of them grab for the flask. The navigator wants to continue his sermon, the pregnant lady wants quiet, and Smother just wants a drink.
Words are exchanged, hurtful words that cut deep. For a minute, it looks like licquor will destroy them.
The navigator backs off in a huff,and the pregant woman shoots him an angry glance. She has the flask, and Smothers is too confused to bother continuing the fight.
Embarrassed by the wasted afternoon, the navigator slowly rises and makes excuses to leave.
Smothers attempts to schmooze the pregnant woman into giving her back the flask.
She is disgusted by his flirtation and she chucks it at him before leaving in a huff.
Smothers waves goodbye and is finally left alone with the only guy who understands him on the planet: Jim Beam.
The pregnant lady returns, scrawling angry letters onto a rock.
I quit, it reads, but Smothers is too besotted to figure out what she is getting at.
He wonders if it is about the baby and the pregnant woman gives him an earful. Smothers feels like he is on the verge of understanding but the pregnant woman storms off.
Smothers wraps himself in faded burgundies and seems to have problems deciding where exactly to go.
The rushing waterfall.Smothers can’t remember what lead him here, but he grimly continues. A half-thought bubbles in his brain. He wants to sober up, to try and get the pregnant woman to let him back in her life.
He clings to the wall, trying to catch water too bring back for the rest of the group and prove his worth.
But he is an ungainly drunk, and he falls into the pool. The fear of drowning grips him until he realizes that he touches bottom. Panicked, he reaches for his flask to comfort him.The near-death experience finally cracks Smothers, and he flaps around, happy to be alive.If anyone was watching, it would be repugnant.
Grassland. Confidence in the Sneaker soars as it looks as though he has lead them to a fertile ground.
Once again the tribe stomps behind their patron saint the half-bear. Smothers shakes as alchohol withdrawl ravages his body.
The navigator throws up an effortless 360, wondering if there is anything here that could grant his death-wish.
On and on they go. Quickly, the tempermental tribe is as tired of the trees as they were of the desert.The fatigue shows-even the half-bear almost has a slip-and-fall.
The Sneaker gets a good laugh out of that one.
The half-bear spots the sort of cave his bear ancestors lived in, and makes an arguement for staying there. It seems like a good idea to the exhausted travellers. Smothers desperately tries to remember if he has a drop of anything hidden away for a rainy day.
Wowwee, cries the female counselor. There is light, there is a way up and out. This suits the Sneaker down to the ground, he doesn’t want to live anywhere the half-bear feels comfortable.
He orders some of his tribe to go and explore the crack in the roof.
Smothers balks at the idea, not trusting his unsteady feet in the climb. The female counselor rips off a few words about working together, and Smothers finds his courage.
He agrees, but everyone can see he has his doubts.
They start upward, Sneaker is eager for the tribe to get out of the cave.
Smothers’ throat is full of climbing noises as the female counselor shouts down encouragement.
The hole seems to be impossibly distant, yet the two squabble over the rocks until they reach the exit. What they will find, what they hope to find, these are questions they don’t have time for.
After about a week they finally reach the sunny top. The female counselor pulls the graceless Smothers out of the darkness and into the sun.
It’s more rock and desert.
The female counselor lazily totes a blaster, ready to atomize any challengers.
They take in the vista, which is lousy.The landscape seems to say, nothing to see here, folks.
They tramp on, driven by the Sneaker’s desire. Smothers looks like he should be medically ineligible from all of the exertion.
He can’t hope to match the sure-footed counselor’s strides. He goes on a few more paces before calling it quits. He is deaf to the counselor’s persuasions, and despite them he eases hiself to the ground.
Ahah! The blind squirrel finds a nut! Smothers has sat down next to some half-buried primo omelette material. His booze-dimmed brain struggles to find the word for his treasure as he examines it. His body is gripped with laughing tremors. Eggs! They’re called eggs, he cries.
The jabbering of Smothers calls the counselor over. Smothers proudly shows off his caloric goldmine.
She kneels beside him and he boasts of coming fritatas. It is such a stroke of luck that she doesn’t even mind his bragging.
Smothers produces egg upon egg, marveling at the chance to finally be full.
A thought hits the counselor as she remembers school-lesson: eggs have to come from somewhere.
Smothers ignores her caution and continues to rip off culinary possibilities. The female counselor tells him to grab some up so they can get back to the tribe.
Smothers starts to haul up some eggs, in no hurry at all. But the counselor senses danger. Smothers mocks her and begins to execute something between a dance and a spasm.
Woah! The counselor is proved right and a mighty beast hoves into view. Smothers panics and the female counselor readies the laser.
The triceratops is pissed at the puny two-legs disturbing her nest. Laser it, cries the infantile Smothers. He rips the laser from the female counselor and harshes out something about settling this the Detroit way.
The triceratops has never heard of Detroit and Smothers’ challenge goes wide. The dinosaurs is one big flourish of horn.
It paws the ground and Smothers hurls laser at his foe.
It’s a direct hit that the dinosaur laughs off.
Everyone is stunned. Laters, cries teh counselor and she dashes off. But Smothers has worshipped at technologies altar too long to fly so quickly. It takes a charge from the mega-ton beast to rout him.
Smothers races away, hoping to draw the beast away from the female counselor. It is easily the mot selfless thing he has ever done.
Feeling the hot breath of the onster, Smothers tires out, each step is ragged and he curses his portly frame. His blind retreat cannot last much longer. The tricertops shows no sign of tiring.
Smothers’ unthinking feet carry him upwards, seeking only escape. He pushes forward, his big body clearly winded. Poor Smothers’ breath comes in cruel gasps. With every step, the realzation that he can’t escape sinks in. The triceratops bellows victory and closes in. Some force still prods Smothers forward. Agh! He finds himself at the knife-edge of a cliff. There is no way his rounded frame would survive the fall. The five-foot drop makes Smothers dizzy.
The monster lizard hurtles forward. Smothers wheels and his shaky hands rip off some laser blasts that go wide. The triceratops seems to smile.
Hurrgh. It is all over. Smothers flops around on the triceratops’ horn, an object lesson in failed imperialism.
The beast lets Smothers’ slide off his horn. The female counselor has seen some stuff in her day, but this takes the cake. She dissolves into blubbery tears at the death of the least-liked tribesmember. She had heard people look peaceful in death, but Smothers’ corpse says it aint so.
The triceratops lets loose some throaty calls of triumph.
In a daze, the female counselor makes her way back to the cave to tell the others.
Having heard death in the wind, the half-bear has already browbeaten Sneaker into mounting a rescue mission.
The female counselor mourns out her story. Panic grips the tribe by the proverbials, but the Sneaker is a level 7 fearmonger, and he will profit by this. The group double-times it back the way they came.
After eating the Smothers’ body, the tribe erect stones in his honor.
“He wasn’t such a bad guy,” says the Nebraskan.
“Yes he was,” says the navigator. “he was an awful person.”
For once Sneaker agrees with him.
Everyone stands around awkwardly, not sure what to do at the grave of such an unliked person.
The pregnant woman kneels and promises never to tell her son about Smothers.
Everyone takes that as the cue to vamanos.
They leave the pregnant woman to her regrets.
The walk goes on, but it is a little more upbeat without the constant complaining of Smothers.
“He really was a jerk,” the navigator tells anyone who will listen, and even the half-bear cannot find anything good to say.
Smothers or not, the trek continues. There is no stopping Sneaker. His magic is in full tenor.
Sneaker leads the over the crest of a hill. He is growing tired of the clingy female counselor and looks for an opportunity to vote her off the island. As his magic swells, so does his loathing of the half-bear, and he can’t stop casting envious glances at his physique. The noble half-bear is of course totally unaware of the emotional tornado he stirs up in Sneaker.
Sneaker hates how easily the half-bear outpaces him and orders a stop. All the throbbing magic inside him tells him he has finally found a home. He starts weaving some spells of domesicity for the group, who seem happy enough to stop moving. But the spell doesn’t enfeeble the half-bear.
He points the many flaws of the location, numero uno being its closeness to the dinosaurs.
“Triceratops, climber beasts, you name it, growls” the half-bear.”And that’s not even counting rumbly-downs. we must move on.”
Sneaker tries to whip up some more potent magic and plays the group against the half-bear. “Listen to the doom-driver,” he shouts. he goes on to talk about free enterprise, lust, and theology.
The half-bear struggles to understand why.
The female counselor begs everyone to take a holiday and let everything work itself out tomorrow.
“You’re all a bunch of ding-dongs” growls the half-bear, using the most devestating word in his arsenal.
The Sneaker gives him a potent tongue-lashing, asking if he wants to leave.
Again, only the female counselor calms tempers. “Be cool,” she urges. “Be cool.”
“I am cool,” growls the half-bear. “I’m cooler than cool, I’m ice cold.” But he cannot stop from trying to best the Sneaker.
With all the vibrating sorcery the Sneaker gives as good as he gets.
“With a face like that,” he snirks, “I thought you were half-warthog.” Magic tousles his hair.
His half-sister wonders if that cut too deep.
The half-bear is all but Mr. Hyding. “Fine,” he roars. “have your little camp. But when rumbly-downs crushes down on you, I won’t sew you back together.
Sneaker’s half-sister tries to get everyone to shut up. Swayed by the spell, even the navigator supports Sneaker.
The half-bear displays some facial agitation, and stomps off.
Everything is going Sneaker’s way, and he gets in some pretty good Grizzly Adams jokes behind the half-bear’s back.
The half-bear exiles himself, trying furiously to control his burly anger. He turns his well-muscled gaze to the horizon. Somewhere out there rumbly-downs roams. It is a forboding and slapdash horizion, the work of a childish god. Nothing is symmetrical.
Sneaker sets the people to work. Building, creating, like a deranged Santa Claus and elves. Some make rope. The useful ones make weapons.
The female counselor thinks of her childhood as she puts the finishing touches on her stone club.
The Sneaker has the Nebraskan help him prepare for any crucifixions. Grasped tightly by the magic spell, it makes perfect sense to the Nebraskan. The Sneaker can already see his enemies groveling for mercy as he gives them the Roman.
The navigator sharpens some reeds he hopes will goad some beasty into squashing him. These will do, he thinks as he checks his latest. My cause is as true as my arrow.
The female counselor collects wood for the Sneaker idol they were told to make.
The more wood the better, she thinks. Twigs are better because Sneaker is a pretty wimpy guy and we want our statue to be accurate.
She staggers around with her bundle picking her way back to the rendezvous. The female counselor dumps her load.
“That all you got,” whines the Sneaker, toting in a double load. He drops his on top of hers.
This planet has crap for resources, Sneaker tells her. I need more wood for my statue.
The feale counselor wants a few minutes to herself but it’s nothing doing. As usual the Sneaker is only thinking about himself, and his vision of the future makes the female counselor blush.
“Is this a future without rumbly-downs,” she asks. “Thats pretty important.”
Sneaker reels from the unexpected name-dropping of his foe. “You don’t worry about rumbly-downs,” he snaps. “I’m working on a pretty powerful spell that will knock him cold. I can’t tell you about it though, you’ll ruin it.” The Sneaker is pleased with how quickly he thought that all up.
“Good,” says the feale counselor, “everyone will be glad you have a plan. Even the half-bear.” She sideeyes the Sneaker to see how he takes that. “He wants to fight him”
Sneaker has a conniption. “I can handle it,” he wails. “I’m so fulla magic it’s coming out my ears. Can’t you see that?” Despite his obivous sorcery, Sneaker craves validation. “If Rumbly-downs was here right now” he swears, “I’d give him some magic to remember me by.” He mutters under his breath about rumbly-downs, the half-bear and traitors.
The feale counselor rolls her eyes. “Of course you would,” she tells him. “It’d be awesome and everyone would celebrate for weeks.” But the seed of doubt has already been sown. “Not even half-bear would really go up against rumbly-downs alone.” She offers Sneaker a lie to help his bruised ego. She spins some further lies about how grateful everyone is for him. It seems to be working. The counselor has a subtle magic of her own.
The Sneaker leans in and demands to hear more about how awesomeeveryone thinks he is. The counselor obliges. “Yeah,” she adlibs. “No one listens to the half-bear.” Team Sneaks, that’s us.”
Yowza, she thinks, I’ve talken people off of ledges easier than this. “Yeah, the half-bear is totally jealous of you.” She throws in some stuff about the navigator being lousy, too.
It’s all music to Sneaker’s ears. “And the Nebraskan?”
The female counselor looks confused, ahving thought their game was done. “He loves you,” she promises.
Sneaker focues his magic right at her and reads her mind. Lies! He squirms and races away from the female counselor.
The Nebraskan’s grinds a stone against a blade. He is dimly aware that a pocket knife would do little against rumbly-downs. According to an old Midwest custom, he slashes his thumb against the blade.
Elsewhere the half-bear helps Sneaker lash the last spars together. This is his big pna, a magically endowed fence to keep rumbly-downs out.
The Nebraskan mosies up to see if anyone can use him like a beast of burden. The female counselor is clearly disturbed by his offer.
The pregnant lady comes up with some bargain basement questions, and the female counselor pretends to have to go forage or something.
Smarting at the reaction, the pregnant lady steals all of her spears.
The mountains, if they were feet, could crush her, they are that imposing. The female counselor picks her way up a narrow path, not sure what she is looking for. She wishes that whoever built this place had made it a little more accessible. There is a cave, it calls to her, and she cannot resist its promised intrigue.
Saddle up, she thinks as she enters. There are cool bits of antique people laying all over the place and she grabs some classics.
The gang with love these, she thinks, eyes on the prize.But the treasures have a guardian, and he is aroused.
Some sixth sense tells her she is in danger, and she throws her eyes around the corner.
She spots the beast in its lair, and her face is a study of revulsion.
The spider dashes after her, its’s mouth parts dripping with hunger.
The female counelor cannot keep it together. She wails, her face now a caricature of fear.
The massive, all of two feet, spider is unstoppable. Her banshee call has no affect on it.
The counselor is flummoxed in the worst way, sure that she will be with Wendy and Smothers soon.
The overgrown crawler licks where its lips ought to be and thinks, dinner on the table.
Ahhhhh, the counselor thinks, that spider is huge.
As it free-styles up her leg, the counselor manages to land a slap on it.
The creeper is flung from the cave, and is pounced upon by the half-bear. He vents his anger into its squishy body. The spider protests Deathm, and the half-bear fantasizes it’s rumbly-downs.
The female counselor hangs between repulsion and desire at the sight of the enraged half-bear, still popping holes in her attacker.
She woozes to her rescuer. It is hard to convince the half-bear to stop his macho exertions.The Sneaker suddenly appears, and the half-bear gets in a good line about protection.
Sneaker feels himself deflate at the jab.
Another barren landscape. Truely, this world was created by a harsh and bitter drunk.
There is nothing pleasant to be found. It is a world of potholes and muscle cramps.
The pregnant lady suns herself on a rock, considering the challenges of bringing a child into this world. For one, no post office.
Her reverie is interrupted by the navigator.
He is half-unzipped and very pleased with himself.
“hello,” he says.
She says hello back, in a voice that says go away.
They gaze out to the tortured vista. This venture was truly a mistake.
The navigator is not picking up on the fact the pregnant lady wants to be alone.
He bores her with Egyptian history, real estate laws, and family trees. Finally, her afternoon ruined, she allows him to walk her back to camp. The navigator is pretty pleased with himself.
The broken-nosed hills do not congratulate him.
He isn’t so bad, decides the pregnant lady. But he needs to knock it off with the chest malarkey. She pops a squat and he joins her. He tries to impress her with more trivia and then burdens her with knowledge of his dyslexia. He has no idea how to talk to people.
He turns the conversation on her.She tells him she was briefly a communist.
They talk longer than anybody has any right too. Suddenly, they realize they’ve been away for a few days. The pregnant lady starts back and the navigator asks if she is doing anything Friday night.Just foraging, she tells him. SHe regrets humoring him..
The half-bear and the Nebraskan struggle with the thick spars of the Sneaker’s magical construct.
“it’s done,” says the Nebraskan.
“Cool,” smirks the half-bear. I can’t wait for something to rampage through this.”
THe Nebraskan admits to himself that the half-bear’s pessimism is getting really old.
The duo wandersback to the tribe to let everyone know that the Sneaker’s fence is finally finished.
Everyone is mildly excited.The female counselor and the navigator make plans for some sort of celebration. The navigator produces some near-beer and starts pouring it out. He drains his glass in an effort to look cool.
The female counselor indulges in this childish flight of fancy.She cannot hide the disgust from her face.
“no,” she lies. “it’s really good. I always make that face.”
She makes a few yummy noises and pretends to drink some more to save his feelings.
The Sneaker is an open sewer of concern. If they enjoy themselves, will my hold weaken, he wonders.
“Don’t forget me,” he says quietly, and the navigator pours him a double.
“Good luck with the fence,” he says, and the Sneaker worries about innuendo. But he accepts the cup and pretends to enjoy himself like everyone else.
The pregnant lady swipes a cup from the navigator and glugs it down. “If it weren’t for this kid,” she tells them, “I’d drink you all under the table.”
The Sneaker tries to get them to make a toast to his leadership but no one really seems interested. Nerds, he thinks, I hate their happiness.
His half-sister reads dark portents in the fake hops. Signs that disturb all. She sees death and chaos.
“You really know how to ruin a party,” says the pregnant lady. She tries to liven things up with the poorly executed dance moves of an expectant mother. Normally, this would be an appalling embarrassment. But tonight is a celebration and everyone claps.The tribe is happy for a change.Except the Sneaker. He watches the counselor sneak away and he thinks: treachery.
The half-bear keeps his lonely vigil, uncomplaining.If this is what it takes to keep his peopl safe, so be it.
His heightend senses hear footsteps and he whips around on the female counselor.
“Almost blasted you.” It isn’t an apology, but a statement.
The counselor apologizes and tries to remind him that arriving fashionably late to events is really a terribl habit.
He turns away. “I’m not going at all,” he says.
The female cousnelor looks seven kinds of disappointed. “Not even for a bit? Everyone is there.”
“N-o spells no,” he tells her flatly. That was a good one, he thinks.
She winces at the sick burn. “Just come and say hello,” she begs.
“No” he tells her again. He struggles to find words for the felling he gets off the Sneaker these days, but only flaps his mouth up and down.
“Chicken,” the counselor tells him. “The half-bear is a big chicken.” She bats her eyes. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”
The half-bear leans in, not believing what is he is hearing. The counselor repeats it.
“The half-bear is no coward” he tells her. “But I cannot shake a bad feeling about the Sneaker.” He tries to find the words to convince her.
“No, I’m better off not going.”
The intensity of the half-bear intimidates the counselor.
Fine, she tells him. Don’t go. You smell like old rugs anyway.
She pauses, and looks up to see if her reverse psychology worked.
The half-bear seems a little less sure of himself.
I do that on purpose, he says finally.
Sure you do, she counters. Everyone loves smelling like rugs. This is getting us nowhere, she thinks.
This is unfamiliar territory for the half-bear.
The counselor presses on. And you’re teeth are terrible. Sneaker was right about you being half-warthog. I’m sorry I even came out here.
A pang of guilt shoots up her.
I didn’t mean that she says. I think you are a pretty neat guy.
She reaches out for his beard and he bats her hand away.
please don’t touch me without my consent, he tells her.
This is why everyone listens to the Sneaker, she wails. At least he isn’t so blatantly immortal.
It stops the quaking half-bear
Her face is too hard a collage to understand.
The half-bear can only think of curse words and storms off to glower.
The counselor is a riot of emotion and tries to drown them in near-beer.
In an effort to liven up the party, the Sneaker makes everything dim and havy via magics. They laugh, they drink, they mentally select mates, it is the freshman dorms all over again.
This lousy party is the happiest I’ve been since we landed, says Sneaker’s half-sister.
The female counselor returns to the shindig.
We’re have you been, snaps Sneaker. His mind is fuzzy from too many near-beer into real beer spells.
His anger is distracted when someone calls for another round of booze spells. The tribe starts to sing prehistoric carousing songs.
They are not in tune, and many words are swapped for euphemisims. Still it is a pretty good night.
They sing for a long time, forgetting their problems.
But as the song ends, everyone remembers where they are and a decent party turns into a tear fest.
Sneaker’s cheerup spell fizzles out in his hands.
Dawn breaks as expected. The mountains heat up.
The half–bear is already bright-eyed and bushy tailed, fixing his favorite spear.
Sneaker-s half-sister asks if he’s seen the Nebraskan.
The half-bear is all focused on his spear but growls out something but not being his mother.
The sneaker’s half-sister continues her line of badgering. The half-bear is amazed a mammoth hasn’t sat on this terrible person.
They have a cold war of a staring contest. Finally, the half-bear tells he that the Nebraskan wandered over into the hills.
Sneaker’s half-sister fumbles for an excuse to visit him, but the half-bear couldn’t care.
She picks her way across a dried up river’s ghost.
The Nebraskan is cat-napping on a rock, his spear an afterthought.
She lumbers over to th broad frame and pops down next to him.
They talk about some poor decision-making after the party, and Sneaker’s half-sister promises to never tell anyone he’s a bed-wetter.
For two people who don’t ave much to say they chatter on forever. Sneaker’s half-sister tries to prover her affection by mother henning him, but he flinches away.
he apologizes but sober the idea of intimate contact still terrifies him.
he tells her it can never be, and weaves a tale of promise rings, wet roads and lawyers. she doesnt believe a word.
the conversation moves to empty pleasantries.
Sneaker’s half-sister scans the horizon for a reason to leave this emotional battlefield.
The Nebraskan drones on but the spurned woman is beyond caring. She notices him staring at her and pretends to be busy with a piece of tinfoil.
This is probably really useful, she asserts.
The air becomes foster-mother to the woman’s screams as rumbly-downs roars off in the distance.
The nebraskan gets pissy his boundaries aren’t being respected. He puts some distance between them and tries to get her to cool down.
Her body races with the thrills of life, but the nebraskan is unresponsive.
She smiles to tell him its’ cool even though it totally isn’t.
He notices how close her hand is to his thigh. He gets up quickly and messes around with the tinfoil, yammering about salvage rights.
It’s getting late, he lies. You had better go back to camp.
He lays an old Midwestern sign of affection on her, the shoulder squeeze. it kills.
he putters around with the tinfoil until he is convinced she’s gone.
Sneaker’s half-sister tramps through an unfamiliar valley. She is care-free, she even stops to pick at some flowers. She feels better than she has in a long time. She is on tip of the world.
She takes in the view, but uh! a double take reveals one of rumbly-downs’ offspring closing in on her.
She falls backward, scrambling away from the approaching beastie.
It snaps, displaying a sharp set of teeth. Sneaker’s half-sister defends herself with sand as best she can. She scores some minor direct hits that trigger the imp’s asthma.
The nebraskan hears the sounds of combat below him. He springs lightly to his feet, and grabs his spear.
The young killer lizard claws at his eyeballs, roaring at the sandblast. Sneaker’s half-sister is on her feet and outta there, lizard in pursuit. The Nebraskan plays catch up as rumbly-downs’ favorite son traps the woman. It snaps, unaware that behind it the Nebraskan has a spear with his name written all over it. Sneaker’s half-sister is all but giving up the ghost. The Nebraskan’s aim is true, he hits the monster right in the back.
It roars in fury and the Nebraskan answers. He gets between the hunter and it’s prey and they trade jabs. The air is electric with machismo.
It’s half-bear to the rescue. He fires the useless laser at the dinosaur.
Rumbly-downs youngling gets tired of the abuse and limps away. The Nebraskan comforts the limp woman and the tribe rushes together, making sympathetic noises.
The half-bear tosses the impotent laser at the Sneaker and gives him some martial fury.
Sneaker runs damage control, but there is no containing the half-bear.
He makes the mistake of asking what the half-bear thinks they should do and everyone laughs.
The half-bear snatches his stone club from the pregnant woman and forms up a war party. One by one they desert the Sneaker.
I’m going to turn them all into lemurs, he swears.
The female counselor tells him to be cool, but it is beyond him. They need this, she says. Violence makes them feel human again. But Sneaker isn’t buying it. She leaves and Sneakers mind fills with plans for humans-to-lemurs spells spells.
The hurly-burly of the hunt crests the hill. The tribe races to their foe, and they have never felt so alive.
Rumbly-downs is angry at his imp and bites him one.
The tribe pelts down through underbrush and gather in the valley. The imp’s trail has gone cold. It is fresh frustration for half-bear. Rumbly-downs track is a non-verbal come at me, bro.
The Sneaker lobs some sarcasm half-bear’s way. His spell is a success and everyone doubts his rival.
The way back to camp is full of danger.
Two drug addled demi-lizards scrape at each other.
The blood-lust is upon half-bear. He leads the tribe to battle. Everybody sneaks towards the lizards, except the Sneaker, who hopes pot the distracted half-bear.
The demi-lizards are oblivious and the half-bear springs his trap.
The navigator gets off a shot at a lizard.
One goes down and the other buggers off.
The Nebraskan leaps forward like an old greek hero. The dying drug-lizard tries to give one back. The Nebraskan dodges teeth and claws and finds an opening to get stabby.
Through a haze of drugs, the lizard realizes his death and commends his spirit to the ancestors.
Half-bear orders up some cheers and everyone congratulates each other.
The sun goes down. The tribe trudges back to camp, dead lizard in tow. Everyone’s thoughts are on dinner possibilities. The half-bears popularity is through the roof.
The Sneaker toils alone, working out the fine print to his humans-to-lemurs spell.
Night falls in the valley.
The female counselor sits brooding until Sneaker’s half-sister joins her. They talk of the future, of electoral. Sneakers half-sister seems unaware her presences makes everyone uncomfortable.
How about that local sports team, she asks. It is an awful joke.
The counselor wants to be alone but the half-sister isn’t getting it.Talk turns to marrying her off, an unwelcome topic. Sneaker’s half-sister prattles on about dowries. The counselor is desperate to change the topic. She cannot remember a worse conversation. Finally the counselor just tunes her out.
The Sneaker’s half-sister calls her bluff and the counselor storms off.
Sneaker’s half-sister fights the urge to burn the camp down.
Despite her awful social skills, she isnt that bad of a person.
When she leaves, the counselor goes back to her spot by the fire, grumbling about peoples need for alone time.She picks up some leftover dino but her appetite is gone.
The Half-bear goes on and on about how awesome the day was. He fills Sneaker with revulsion.
The navigator calls for an election tomorrow. Sneaker quakes in his boots. The half-bear doesnt want anyone to stir up any trouble. Everybody just stay breezy, he counsels.
He is overruled by the tribe.The pregnant lady echoes the call for half-bear to assume leadership.
HB asks if this is the will of all. Sneaker looks sullen. He dredges up his magic and casts his long worked on spell. The tribe feels it almost right away.
The female counselor tries to get out a distress call but it deflates into grunts. She wrestles to keep hold of her humanity.
Disgusted with her transformation, she rushes off.
Sneaker’s half-sister is barely aware of a change. She wanders off to continue her campaign against the Nebraskan.
He is fully lemur now and doesn’t even mind her invading his bubble.
The Nebraskan has never felt as comfortable as he does with a lemur’s brain. It is all systems go and they sloppily transfer mouth fluids. The were-lemur curse is horrible to watch.
Gaah! the lemurs separate as a toothy menace makes itself known.
Primo terror Rumbly-downs challenges Sneakers magical barrier. He is through without breaking a sweat.
The lemur-tribe is in a complete tizzy.
Rumbly-downs roars and gets down to it. Sneaker leads the ribe in a full retreat.
A roar stops the pregnant lady cold. Sneaker hurls a sacrifice spell her way and she runs towards the monster. Troubled by a cramp, the navigator can only watch.
The expectant mother snatches up a useless laser and rumbly-downs is on her like white on rice. He knocks a house down on the navigator.
Rumbly-downs lowers the boom on the pregnant woman and calls it a night.
The tribe is scattered. Sneaker reels from his broken magical fence. The wounded is tended, and the half-bear doesn’t bother to contain his rage.
he grabs the nearest spear he can find, and the sneaker almost wets himself at the sight of his rage. In spite of his caution, the weasely Sneaker is caught up in the half-bears magnetism and follows after him.
Dawn. The rocks seem to know it will be a bloody day. The half-bear picks outs some promising battleground. Half-bear and Sneaker execute an odd walk to get closer to a druggy lizard.
Half-bear is raw for combat, but the tiny lizard won’t ease his hunger. The best choice of action is to press on, and they slink on by.

Their journey seems endless.. It is all the half-bear can do to stop himself from smacking the whiney Sneaker. This has become a fools errand, and the Sneaker is ripe with I told you so’s. They freeze when the trails heats up. Rumbly downs has stomped here recently. The tracks are everywhere! This is not some dancefloor, realizes the hb, this is his lair! Sneaker wants to cast fleeing spells, but half-bear tells him to act his age. Sneaker winces at the jibe and thinks up a litany of curses as they creep towards the bone-strewn cavern.
The half-bear feels like a blacksmith turned into a king. he is loving every moment of this danger.
The stench of last night’s dinner fills the air, and they try not to vomit as they slink forward. If they new the full evil of the cave, they would not be so bold. As it is, they act like they are on a self-guided tour.
Half-bear wants to throw himself at the beast here and now, but unsurprisingly Sneaker is terrified. He magics his words to seem like good advice, and they back slowly away. HB keeps eyeing up the cave, daring rumbly-downs to come out and get a piece.
Back at the camp the lemurs bicker. The navigator hopes that death will not forget him.
The half-bear swaggers on in and holds a brief q and a session.
The situation looks all but hopeless to most of the ensorcered lemurs.
Half-bear goes on about ancient kings. Sneaker hates him more than ever. The navigator is for anything that will kill him quickly. The Nebraskan is clueless.
HB and Sneaker go back and forth about what to do.
Half-bear is just about done with the lemurs.They cannot stop complaining, and if there was a tree he would be up it. The Nebraskan flexes to ease some tension.
Knock it off, warns the half-bear, grownups are talking.
The Navigator sides with half-bear, eager to get this show on the road.
The female counselor is all technicality.
Everyone wants their say and it is wasting time.
Sneaker lends some magic to the confusion. He casts a split-up spell and it is devastating, even half-bear admits that.
Part of the tribe wanders across a lovely waterfall, but there is no time for a picnic.
A lone spike-back wanders a valley. The foraging is good today. It is so pleased with himself that he doesn’t hear a lemur stalk on up.
The half-bear orchestrates the attack from a nearby dune. Sneaker admires a bush. THe spikeback is dimly aware of the trio’s approach. He swooshes his tail around a lemur, but doesn’t find his mark.
They play the age-old cat and mouse. Spikeback is tired of this intrusion. He is just ready to give them a piece of his mind. But the half-bear takes out his frustrstion on the lizard and down it goes. It is a blow that inspires admiration and fear.
The other group of lemurs auimlessly rip berries off of trees. They grunt at each other.
The scatter spell wears off and everyone works their way home.
Sneaker pisses everyone off with some minor blindness. Try as he might, the navigator won’t slip off the cliff edge. The lemurs get tired of his crap and try to find another way home.
The lemurs squash grind up some terrible looking berries. If they think they can get the spikebeast drunk, they are horribly wrong. They toil feverishly, the half-bear disgusted by their efforts. It is Sneaker’s latest spell, busy work.
But it fails and the lemurs bear their trophy to the tyrant lizards cavern, staggering under the weight of their offering. It is hard to tell if they have a plan, and if they do, it is a bad one.

but rumbly-downs was not at home!
the group flees, but the navigator has felt the touch of death
arrgh, cries the navigator, throwing a spear. it goads the beastly rumbly-downs. The navigator struggles for a new weapon, but rumbly-downs is upon him. he cries out, not in pain, but because his search for a death in battle is at an end.

rumbly-downs cradles his foe as gently as his razor mouth can bear. the navigator shall be lain among the honored dead.

the rest of the gang weep at his death, tears soaking facial hair.

rumbly-downs looks over his shoulder as he prepares to inter the navigator.

the half-bear rallies the gang, who realize that rumbly-downs is perhaps too formidable a foe.

the half bear leads his tribe back to their calling: arts and crafts. but guided by the half-bear’s battle-lust, they craft not baskets, but instruments of war, gods of battle.

sneaker gnaws at his face, knowing the half-bear wants control of the tribe. he insults the creations of the half-bear man, trying to weaken him before the lemur-tribe.

the half-bear growls out a challenge, mocking the sneaker’s flaxen mustache. “heh, bet you couldn’t even find your way over a rock, he says, and the sneaker asserts that he can.
You just pick up that spear and let’s dance like we used to, the sneaker says.

half-bear is confused, not remembering having danced with sneaker before.

suddenly rumbly-downs guttarls out his hunger, and the tribe recoils.

it’s enough to send sneaker packing. half-bear can feel in his very heart’s beard that his moment has come. to arms, he calls, to arms. women, men, rock, stick. we will kill rumbly-downs and avenge the navigator.

sneaker limps impotently across the desert, his magic hold broken. ahhh, he remembers his magic glass that often charmed the navigator. mayhaps i’ve magic left to control the beast rumbly-downs, he hisses. i shall rid myself of the half-bear and return to the alpha male.

but the light only infuriates rumbly-downs. wilikers, huffs the sneaker, bounding over rock. rumbly-downs pursuse him, as hungry as ever. he stops to roar, a roar that says both you kids get offa my land as well as, i;m going to eat you.

sneaker looks back over his shoulder at the camp. i can hide behind this non-involved lizard while rumbly-downs gorges on half-bear, he thinks as he squats. But the lizard is none other than slyth, minor wizard and vassal to rumbly-downs. Go not, my lord, cries slyth, you go to your doom. And rumbly-downs’ rage is such that he will heed no warnings and consumes the magicians neck. you can see the future, he growls in a dying ear, how come you didn’t see that coming?

sneaker is repulsed at the treatment of a fellow-magician and scampers away as quickly as his stretch-fabric allows him.

of course, peeps the peeping sneaker. he’ll eat slyth and gain his wizard powers to defeat us all. that is what the sneaker would have done. it is so obvious to him.

the half-bear has propped up flagging spirits with talk of valhalla, honor, glory, and a future without fedoras. the trbe grimly man and woman their posts. sneaker loki’s on into camp like he’s even wanted there.

the half-bear throws him a spear. you still want that fight to the death, he bellows, i’ve just finished my exercises. sneaker can not help but shiver at the quivering half-bear. he sideyes the lemurs before backing down. flushed with that victory, the half-bear leads the tribe after rumbly-downs, not knowing that the sneaker hopes to strike him down in the heat of battle.

half-bear leads the gang up to the mouth of rumbly-downs’s cavern. it all smell’s like slyth’s magic blood.

the half-bear bellows a challenge, and his cowardly followers hop around like court jesters or something. even sneaker lets himself be carried away in masculinity.

then rumbly-downs appears, belly full of magic. the lemur-people hurl their useless sticks at him. he is all but impervious. One of the lemurs strikes rumbly-down in the shoulder and his anger is terrible to behold. i shall drive you from my doorstep, he yowls. i will make the mountains weep at the sight of you.

the cowardly sneaker gnaws at the gang’s courage and they flee in their moment of triumph.

the half-bear is of two minds. he wants nothing more than to smite rumbly-downs, and yet he must look out for his people.

rumbly-downs drives all before him, searching his body for slyth’s recently ingested magics. i will whip up a spell so potent, he promises, you won’t even know what to do.

ah! the gilmore girl has fallen! it is the most she can do to hide in a weasly bush. luckily, rumbly-downs is to bent on vengeance that he doesn’t see her and tramps on by.

the lemurs return to their newly-risen gods. save us, they beg. we have no love of magic. save us from rumbly-downs.
the twin gods give no answer, and the lemurs run on.

the half-bear is done. he falls, he can no longer retreat. he prays to the navigator to let him face death as he did but look! such fortune!-rumbly-downs, blind to all thoughts but consuming, has spit himself onto one of the new idols and he roars.

magic leaks out of him. half-bear rises, thanking the navigator’s spirit for the timely intervention. he mocks rumbly-downs’s death throes until the lizard can take no more and collapses.

how quickly the sneaker leads the lemurs back to the site of death, eager to lay claim to it. his chittering seems to sway two of them, and he leads them triumphantly to the carcass.

where’s the half-bear, asks gilmore girl?

dead, says the sneaker, quickly. rumbly-downs got him.

but there is movement beneath the corpse.the half-bear lives!
fully convinced of his superiority, the sneaker concedes control of the tribe by racing to help the half-bear.
two of the lemurs can think of nothing to do but rub faces against each others. the sneaker doesn’t know what they’re doing, but he knows he doesn’t like it.

the tribe is together, rumbly-downs is dead, and the half-bear claims the sneaker as his mate. all is as it should be.

the lemurs work to erect a statue to the half-bear. gone are the vain trappings forced upon them by the sneaker. the half-bear is hardly recognizable with his father christmas/karl marx beard, but that’s who he is now. even the sneaker seems to have grown out a hippie-like chin attatchment. the half-bear wraps and arm around his lover and former rival.

dont build statues of violence, he gently commands them. the days of violence are over, proclaims the half-bear. even i have turned my war club into a farm tool. the lemurs agree that this is good. and there is a lemur baby now. that is also good.

a story, mama, a story, cries the infant.
What kind of story do you want to hear, the mother asks her informally dressed lemur child.

How half-bear defeated rumbly-downs, of course, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

no, little one, i will not, the lemur mother says gravely. for that is a bloody tale, and we are now a people of peace.

Share this:

Like this:

Related

Join the conversation!
1 Comment

As a fan of MST3K….this post made me very happy. I have never read something like this yet I could picture you sitting in class reciting it all. (Not in a creepy way). Very funny and very well written. Nice job!